Bria spoke to her lieutenant, Jace Paol, who was overseeing the last pre-battle preparations. “Assemble troops, please.”
One quick order later, and the boarding squads were falling in. There would be one squad per shuttle, about ten troops on each. Two waves of three shuttles each, first wave and second wave. First wave would have the responsibility for boarding Helot’s Shackle and neutralizing the slaver resistance. The second wave would reinforce the first, and help with the mopping up.
Bria walked slowly down the lines of troops, inspecting them, checking their uniforms, their weapons, their expressions. At one point she stopped before a young trooper whose eyes glittered with more than eagerness.
Studying his flushed cheeks and reddened nose, she frowned. “Corporal Burrid …”
He came to full attention. “Yes, Commander!”
She reached up, touched his cheek, then his forehead. “Fall out, Burrid.
You’ve got at least a degree of fever.”
Sk’kot Burrid saluted. “Respectfully, Commander, I feel fine!”
“Right,” Bria said. “And I’m the Emperor’s Wookiee concubine. Hyx?”
The medical officer took a med-probe out of his belt pouch and touched it to the young man’s face. “Two degrees fever, Commander.
White cell counts indicate infection, possibly contagious.”
“Report to the med droid, Corporal,” Bria ordered.
Crestfallen, the young man opened his mouth to protest, then he thought better of it and obeyed. Without a word, his backup from the reserves moved into his place in line.
When Bria had finished her inspection, she paused, then addressed her soldiers. “All right, people. We’re waiting now for the signal to make our microjump. The Y-wings will go in first, and make their runs to bring their shields down. Then it will be up to you people. You’ll be docking with their airlocks where they have them, and fighting your way in. Where there are no airlocks, we’re going to make ones.
Special engineering teams will accompany two boarding shuttles. Those squads will cut through the hull just in front of the engineering sections.”
She paused. “Remember, there are going to be slaves underfoot, confused, frightened, and probably beginning to suffer from Exultation withdrawal. They may try to attack you. Don’t risk yourselves, but make every reasonable effort not to harm them seriously. Use stun beams on those slaves, all right?”
There was a general murmur of agreement. “Are there any questions?”
There weren’t. The troops had already been briefed by their squad leaders and platoon leaders, and they’d been through repeated drills.
Bria nodded at the troops. “This is Red Hand’s most ambitious undertaking yet, people. If we can pull this off, you can bet we’ll be seeing more action. So let’s impress the Sector Command … right?”
Agreement was unanimous.
As Bria turned to confer with her platoon leaders, suddenly her comlink beeped. She activated it. “Yes?”
“Commander, the signal just came through. Helot’s Shackle has just undocked from the Ylesian station.”
Bria nodded, then turned to the platoon leader. “First wave, board your shuttles. Second wave … stand by.”
The deck reverberated to the pound of running feet as the thirty troopers scrambled into their respective shuttles.
Bria keyed in her personal frequency. “Attention, Crimson Fury, this is Red Hand Leader.”
“Go ahead, Red Hand.”
“Prepare your ships to microjump in three minutes. Retribution will be right behind you.”
“Copy that, Red Hand Leader. Preparing for microjump.”
Quickly Bria and Daino Hyx left the shuttle fighter launch bay, took the turbolift up, then jogged forward until they reached the bridge.
The ship’s captain looked up as they entered. Bria slipped into a seat behind the tactical schematic. From her station she could also see the viewscreens. “Captain Bjalin,” she said. “Ten seconds after the last of the Y-wings has jumped, we will jump.”
“Yes, Commander,” Bjalin said. Tedris Bjalin was a tall young man whose hairline was receding, despite his youth. He’d joined the Corellian resistance just recently, after his entire family had been murdered during the Imperial massacre on Tyshapahl. Before that time, he’d been an Imperial lieutenant. His Imperial training had served him in good stead, earning him a promotion in the Rebel forces. He was an able officer, a decent man, who’d told Bria that he’d already been thinking of deserting the Imperial Navy when his family had been murdered. That had pushed him over the edge.
Bria watched tensely as the seconds counted down, and, two by two, the six Y-wings jumped into hyperspace. Then the starlines stretched out before them, as Retribution jumped, too.